


"They Fought Like Heroes"

by QuietBubbles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 07:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10737162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietBubbles/pseuds/QuietBubbles
Summary: Fabian Prewett prepares to die. Rated for language.





	"They Fought Like Heroes"

Fabian Prewett stared quietly at his own reflection in the hall mirror. There was a crack in the side that he himself had inflicted upon it when carrying it new into the house, never having bothered to repair it. He had never been terribly cautious. Running a hand through his thick, dark hair, he painfully wished he had thought to ask Molly to cut it for him the last time they had met. However insignificant the mess of split ends was to his rational brain, he felt that he ought to look his best today. Stealing a quiet moment for himself was risky, but Fabian felt as if he was standing on the edge of a cliff. He needed to ready himself before jumping.

Carefully, he unbuckled his wristwatch and laid it face up on the chest of oaken drawers beneath the mirror, so that the stars orbiting the clock face reflected in the glass. It was terribly dented-he remembered his father barking at him to be more careful with it after he had trodden on this present a mere three weeks after his seventeenth birthday. Again, he had never bothered to fix it. In a way, he liked it much more like this-it was undeniably his. Still. He liked to have free wrists when he duelled.

Fabian looked himself over once more in the mirror. His hair truly was a mess-set off by the dark circles under his eyes. He sighed. Given the chance, he would have liked to leave a far better-looking corpse. 

The stars on his watched showed time running away from him, stretching towards the horizon and then-nothing. He felt as if he was on a train, hurtling into an endless tunnel of blackness…

Time. 

“Gideon?” he called up the stairs to his brother. “Gideon? They’re coming.”

A short pause. 

Footsteps hurtled downwards, heavy boots creaking on the wooden staircase. In the hallway appeared a man who was almost his double, but with deliberate mistakes-a broader nose, an inch taller, a stone heavier, a curl in his hair. There was no surprise in Gideon’s face-though there was a hint of fear betraying his dark eyes. “Now?”

“Dumbledore sent a Patronus. We’ve got minutes at the most.” Fabian found that his voice was a few tones lower than normal. “The protective charms will hold for a time, but-“

“Where is Molly?” Gideon cut in, his own voice taking on that same new depth. “The kids? Are they safe?” 

“With Arthur’s family,” said Fabian. “I never told her He’s been looking for us. She’d want to help. I will not see my nephews motherless.” 

There was a silence between the brothers as each was forced to face reality. There seemed to be a quietness in the world, a calm sea before a violent storm. There would only be one outcome of that storm.

“…This is it, isn’t it?” 

To hear Gideon, his brother, say those words was almost more than Fabian could bear. But identical brown eyes found each other-and set. Each brother forced his fear deep into his heart, drawing courage and strength from one another. In the same moment-the ghost of a sad smile crossed each face. 

“Lucky to have lasted this long,” Fabian said bravely, his voice now surprisingly light. “Luckier than plenty.”

“Yes,” agreed Gideon quickly, bearing his teeth, as both remembered all of those who had fallen before them. “Lucky to have seen Ronald born. Didn’t think we’d make it that far, let alone still be standing here today.” His eyes flickered to the last letter Molly had sent, lying on the chest of drawers, a photograph of a red-headed baby boy, blinking at the camera with a rather bemused expression enclosed. It had been a rare moment of joy in the endless darkness. 

“Got to be the last, hasn’t he?” Fabian grinned, to a small chuckle from his brother. “Almost wish Mol was here-she’d make mincemeat out of any bloody coward in a cloak and mask. Should have got word out she was here with us-any Death Eater would run a mile.” They shared a rather desperate laugh-which died as quickly as it came. Again, the world was far too quiet. 

Fabian looked at his brother, trying to find the right words to say…but nothing seemed like enough. Fortunately, Gideon seemed to know. He reached out, and clapped Fabian’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. Fabian reached out and clasped Gideon’s opposite, as images of playing Quidditch as a boy, of Hogwarts, of nights out in Hogsmeade, of Molly and the kids, flashed across his eyes, like a photo album being flipped through far too quickly. All of them-with Gideon by his side.

“Look,” Gideon said, his voice stronger now than ever. “If we’re going down, we’re taking as many of these bastards with us as we can. Yes?” 

The words seemed to light a kind of fire in Fabian. “We’ll give them the best fight they’ve ever had.” he swore. 

Gideon smiled again, letting the moment linger for as long as he dared. Then-the Prewett brothers turned to the front door, wands brandished, side by side. Seconds ticked by on Fabian’s watch, still lying on the chest of drawers beside Molly’s letter. 

BANG.

The tremor from outside told them that their protective enchantments had fallen. 

Fabian outstretched his wand arm, as Gideon did likewise, and aimed straight at the door, though which black shadows had appeared on the glass, growing as the Death Eaters neared them. Each was dressed in black robes, each face masked-each wand held aloft. 

“Good luck.”

“And to you, brother.” 

“BOMBARDA!” 

As the Prewett’s door flew off its hinges and crashed to the floor, shattering into a hundred pieces-the brothers fought like heroes.


End file.
